


Truth Doesn't Change The Way It Hurts

by marin27



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Explicit Language, Injury, M/M, Mild Blood, Mutual Pining, Pain, Peter Parker Feels, Pining, Protective Tony Stark, They have unresolved sexual tension, Tissue Warning, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, but its mostly just angst, just an unspoken thing between them, non-established relationship, they have a secret relationship but its not really a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marin27/pseuds/marin27
Summary: Tony and Peter fight over the self-sacrificing idiots they both are. And it becomes the worst mistake they both ever made.——————“You don’t mean that.” Peter’s voice is oh so fragile, like the lightest touch would break it into a million pieces. Shaky, soft, light, and croaky as he stares at Tony with a quivering bottom lip.Tony doesn’t move, doesn’t say a thing.





	1. It Won't Hurt If You Keep Quiet... Probably.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizzie1495](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzie1495/gifts).



> This was an idea that started from a comment from KimidollSan!! Thanks for the comment on my other fic and I give you full credit for the ideas!!! It gave me a lot to work with for the next few weeks 😊😊❤️❤️

_Fuck_

 

Tony should’ve known better than to look away for that one god awful moment, knew in his heart there is this one small, slim chance things could go wrong. And yet, the universe hated him so much it decided to make that one moment count.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mr. Stark, why can’t you just understand I can handle some things on my own? I’ve been a part of this gig for over a year now and you’re still treating me like I’m still a kid! It honestly _pisses me off!”_

_Gig. Huh. Wow, how much has the kid hung around me to pick up my words?_

“Are you even listening to me!?”

_I mean, over a year. Wow. I’ve known him for a year. Seems like yesterday._

_“Mr. Stark!”_ Tony can’t help but roll his eyes at the crack in Peter’s voice, finding this situation quite ironic.

“Yes! What do you want, kid, huh?” _Shit, I didn’t mean to yell. But Peter’s taken it way too far this time._

His eyes are full of fire, defiance in every muscle of his stiff posture. The kid’s got grit, Tony has to admit—he just hopes he didn’t learn it from Tony.

“I’m sick of you treating me like a goddamn kid all the time, _Tony!” Well, he’s finally saying my name. He’s that angry, then._

Tony turns around in a whirl, his hand still trying to get off the excess goo from the weird monsters they were fighting a few minutes prior to this argument. Tony’s face is _livid_. He leans down into Peter’s space, hand pointing a finger in the kid’s face, his eyes challenging with a similar blaze of fury behind them.

_“Then stop fucking acting like one.”_

Tony doesn’t stay still to watch his reaction, just spins around again as he heads to his workbench, taking off his small wrist repulsors. Behind him, Peter splutters, and Tony can feel the fuming rage radiate from the teenager.

“How can you say that, huh? When you’re also out there parading in your meta—not even metal suit! You didn’t have your suit with you! You were a civilian out there! And what? I was supposed to lay low while you fought off those thirty werewolves alone in an office suit and a repulsor?”

Tony cringes. Yeah, he has to admit that was a dumb move on his part, just jumping into the fray and telling Peter to stay way from the danger, plus not being in his suit. But how could he not? How could he not want to protect Peter? When he took one look at those weird creatures that would absolutely destroy Peter the second they get their hands on him.

Tony knows he can fend for himself, even had a plan formulated in his head to stop all of them, so imagine his surprise when Peter decides to say _fuck it_ with his instructions and with an inch of his life, nearly gets torn to shreds by large claws. When he saw that moment—where Peter whizzed by them, distracting them from attacking Tony, fall, trip and dodge those sharp talons in time—Tony was sure he had a heart attack, or at least stopped breathing. Cause it sure felt like the end of the world.

So here he ended up, covered in green goo—basically those werewolf-looking monsters’ blood—after Tony used his explosives and nearing a screaming match with a teenager in the penthouse of Avengers Tower.

Tony ran his hand through his hair to check for any goo. Luckily, not. He turns around and gestures his hands with anger-filled motions, “And you think that justifies you jumping in to kill yourself? Huh? How many times do I have to tell you, kid, that you shouldn’t be the one making the last sacrifices around here. That’s my job.”

“But _I’m_ not the one jumping into action in a five thousand dollar designer suit and no armour!” Peter strides into his space, head tilted up, chin jutted out as he stares at Tony with objection in his eyes. “If you get to do that, as a civilian, then I’m _damn well_ doing it as Spider-Man.”

Tony’s chest rise and falls, and he has to keep the urge to scream and lose it away from the surface. It never ends well when he does. Tony takes a step forward, a shadow of a similar argument just a little over a year ago—the same animosity in the kid’s demeanour, the same flush of pink across his face as he goes head to head with his mentor, the same tone of nerve like they were standing on same circular building, Tony frazzled as he demands the suit back—and Tony grimaces. If this goes anything like last time, Peter is going to get hurt either way if he pushes too far. But Tony just couldn’t—he really couldn’t, even if his logical brain told him to let it go—help himself but to push a little more, forcing Peter just right up to the edge where everything is bare and out in the open.

“Want me to yell at you like you’re a kid? Want me to take away your suit again? To _ground_ you? Cause, honestly, you’re acting like every little bit of the _brat_ you can be.”

 

_Fuck. That’s too far._

 

Peter steps back, the fire in his eyes dying a little, hurt replacing the boldness that was in his eyes a few seconds ago and Tony—practically hearing Peter’s heart fall to his stomach—doesn’t want to step back down. Despite knowing that he’s pressed too hard, given in to the anger coursing his veins, he has to do this.

He has to give the kid a lesson _. He doesn’t want to hurt him_. Tony has to discipline the kid until he knows every consequence there is to risking his own life. _Tony doesn’t want to push him away._ He has to make Peter understand that this isn’t some rodeo where he can risk lives, especially his own, like it’s nothing. _He has to make Peter understand that he loves him so much it kills him inside to see Peter jump in front of danger like he owes the world a favour._

Peter straightens up and with false spite, “You’re an egotistical _jackass_.”

Tony’s defence go up, without him meaning to. Tony never uses it on the kid, even when his patience has run out. Because he knows it’s going to be a bombshell when his defence mechanism build back up. And Tony’s defence system… is fighting back.

 

Tony can’t stop the words from flowing, each syllable pronounced with something short of _contempt_ and _scorn_.

 

_“And you’re an incompetent, immature, reckless teenager who tries so hard to pretend you’re something you’re not.”_

 

And Tony knows it’s too late.

 

The way his face crumbles, his façade falling away to reveal the crushed look, the betrayal in his eyes. Tears spring up in those wounded brown eyes and Tony’s heart squeezes so tightly in his chest, twisting and turning as the voice in his head tells him to _stop hurting him please stop it you’re no different from those monsters who nearly killed him—_

“You don’t mean that.” Peter’s voice is oh so fragile, like the lightest touch would break it into a million pieces. Shaky, soft, light, and croaky as he stares at Tony with a quivering bottom lip.

Tony doesn’t move, doesn’t say a thing.

Peter blinks and tears start rolling down _stop, stop, stop hurting him, you’re hurting him hug him touch him tell him you’re sorry beg for forgiveness—_

Tony looks down at Peter, lips pursed and voice stuck in his throat. He watches—and hears his heart shatter in the cold quiet lab—as Peter stumbles backwards, shaking his head profusely, slipping on his mask and leaping off the balcony.

Tony’s legs can’t support him, his knees hitting the ground, as do his hot tears.

 


	2. Wounds Don't Hurt As Much As Broken Memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already wrote the fic in its entirety, but I wanted to space it out and give the story a few days to breathe. So here you go! The second part! 
> 
> Yall ready?

It’s only been a week and Tony is called back into a mission, and he hasn’t spoken a word to Peter since the fight. Rhodey doesn’t mention the thick tension that he can cut with a knife he can feel when Peter swings into their conversation, who just heard the loud commotion nearby. Tony tries hard not to focus on the kid, instead telling Friday to scan the streets full of armed robots, almost Ultron-looking.

“Possibly doombots that we’re dealing with here, Mr. Stark,” Friday chips in.

Tony nods and steps backwards, his voice ringing out in the other two’s suits. “Rhodes, take the bots that are scattering out into the city, they don’t seem to be concentrated anywhere so just pick up the stragglers attacking civilians.”

He turns to Peter, his lenses squinting as he stands still. “Kid—”

“Yeah, I know. Help the civilians get outta here. Not my first _gig_.”

Tony can hear the bitterness in the word, but with an underlining tone of hurt. Before he can say another word, Peter sprints and swings off.

Rhodey turns to him, “Tony, what did you d—”

“We’ll talk about it later, sourpatch.” His usual teasing tone behind the nickname not having any light to it. Tony doesn’t let him react, just flying off the second his words leave his mouth.

* * *

 

Tony manages to make quick work of the clusters of metal soldiers in the city. _Always with New York City_. Tony can’t help but wonder if this place is just a big red target for villains to stake their claim.

When Tony flies out a demolished building, dangling seven robots over the road with his arm, he catches the familiar blurry whiz of red and blue. He fires his thrusters, melting the robot’s hands, leading the whole string of them to fall down a hundred feet from the air, and looks back up. He watches as Peter carries a woman, swinging from building to building, and bringing her to safety to the other side where it’s devoid of robots.

Tony was about to fly over to him before a booming siren echoes the streets, a sound so loud it nearly rattles his suit. They both turn to the source of the sound and see plumes of white smoke from the source. The Iron Man and Spider-Man suit glance at each other before heading fast into that direction. Tony flies down between the streets and soon enough, hears the familiar _thwip!_ right beside him. He takes a gander at the person who swings at the end of the web and says dryly, “I thought you knew how to do your end of the rodeo.”

Peter grunts, contorting his body to swing around a building’s corner. He pants, “And I thought— _gah_ —you’d be adult enough to ignore this for now and talk about it later.”

Tony snorts, and he can see Peter’s cheeks rise in a smirk. Peter lands on a ledge and Tony stops mid-air, both of them gazing at the origin of the sound and smoke. A gigantic metal robot stood there in all its glory, around fifteen feet tall, that hovers over the ground with its own thrusters. Tony grimaces. “Great, now we got this guy.”

“Friday, where’s the source of energy?”

“The contains a layer of unknown substance, hindering my ability to see through the metal. You have to get closer, but you have to get close enough that it'll attack you.”

Tony turns to Peter, “Distract him, I’ll hang around nearby to get the scans.”

Peter nods and walks to the ledge, falling as he takes a step into air, gracefully catching himself by shooting out a web. Peter swings until he’s half a block away from the gigantic robot and yells at it, “Hey, big guy! Can you talk?”

Immediately, the robot spins towards him, three different automatic guns pointed in his direction. The lenses of his suit go wide, his spidey-senses going wild. “Oh god—”

He jumps off, using his body weight to cut through the air faster as he dodges all the bullets heading his way. “I guess not one for conversation then! Not a big talker, eh?”

Tony flies closer to the robot, trying not to watch the kid get shot at; logically he knows the kid can handle himself, Tony can’t risk busting his cover just because of his protective instinct. He hovers over the ground a few feet off, letting Friday scan the robot. He’s glad the kid isn’t anywhere close, because Tony can already tell this robot is more of a threat up close.

Friday made a noise of discomfort, somewhat breaking the illusion of her being an AI. Tony feels worry in his gut. “Friday? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—I can’t scan anything, Boss. You have to get closer.”

Tony just complies, hoping the sound of his thrusters is quiet enough. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case.

Within a second, Tony finds himself the target of those three guns, his eyes going wide behind the faceplate.

_“Mr Stark!”_

Before he knows it, the guns are covered in white silky substance, the bot being pulled into the opposite direction by incredible strength. The robot stumbles backwards, his guns moving again to point at Peter again.

Tony doesn’t let Peter’s distraction go to waste, moving in closer. “Friday! Scan it now!”

He watches Peter swing in every direction, his webs also connected to the robot so he stays away from Tony—spinning through the air.

“Found it, Boss!”

“Mr Stark! I can’t keep him distracted much longer!”

Tony aims for the middle of the robots back, his hand punching through the metal. He can already feel the robot trying to turn around. This time, he can feel the bot rattle with extra weight, and Tony doesn’t look up from his mission, now pulling out lasers to cut through the thick layer. “Mr Stark, I got this covered but you gotta hurry up!”

Tony can feel the blood in his vein go cold. Peter’s voice is much closer than he last heard him from. He glances up, only to freeze when he sees Peter sticking on the other side of the robot, shooting webs at the base of the guns so it stops the rapid-fire. _“Kid! Get away now!”_

Peter shakes his head vehemently, pushing away the guns from his face with ease, grunting when another gun moves towards him. “Just focus on the energy source, Mr Stark!”

Tony pauses for a split second, before listening to him and going back down to his own task, his laser already having cut a jagged hole through the robot. He punches through the circuitry and thick wires inside, hoping to find the orb shaped battery. His armoured hand eventually wraps itself around the battery but a second before he rips it out, ready to end it all…

 

_He hears a sickening scream and a crunch._

 

Tony rips it out, watching the robot fall forward with a loud boom. Tony looks down at his hand, watching the glowing yellow battery die and lets it drop to the floor. Tony looks up, his heart dropping when he doesn’t see the jumping, bubbly teenager. Tony tries not to let the worst thoughts get to him yet, the scream suddenly replaying in his head, “Peter?”

 

_Silence._

 

He can feel worry cut through his heart, the blade delving deeper with each passing second his eyes don’t see the red and blue. Tony’s head start to move side to side frantically, trying to look for any movement. _“Peter?”_

 

Almost as if his prayer is answered, he sees a glimpse of red behind a pile of rubble. He breathes out the tiniest bit, and flies over to the area. He was about to open his mouth, ready to chastise the kid for nearly giving him a heart attack, ready to hug him in relief, ready to kiss him with unbridled concern and love for the kid—although he’s not sure if he’s allowed to do that yet, they haven’t talked about their fight. Until…

 

Until he comes closer and he sees that the kid isn’t moving.

 

_Peter isn’t moving._

 

_Tony flies over to the area where the kid is laying, unmoving and unflinching. He lets the worry get to him, dear God what if he has got tell his aunt that her kid is gone what if—_

_“Kid, you all right?” Peter jumps and turns around, his arms immediately coming up to defend himself before he even recognises its Tony. “Hi, It’s me.”_

_“Oh hey… man, that was scary.” Tony doesn’t tell him that was the first time he nearly gave him a heart attack, and he doesn’t know it’ll be the first of many._

 

His mask was off, taken off haphazardly next to him. And _god_ , his face. His lips are tainted red, because of the blood that dribbles out of his mouth. The right side of his face a blotchy mess of red and purple.

His once bright, beautiful—they were so _beautiful_ — brown eyes are now void of life, glassy as they stare into the sky.

 

_Gorgeous brown eyes peek out from over his sweater-covered arms, a smile in his eyes, lips in a sweet grin. Tony can’t help but press a soft kiss to his forehead, his heart filled to the brim with tenderness. When Peter pops up from behind his arms to kiss Tony’s cheek, Tony feels like he can’t breathe._

 

Tony can’t breathe.

 

“No—kid, fuck, fuck.” His voice is shaking. His body trembles in his suit, wracking with the onset feeling of familiar guilt. But this time, it’s different. This time—it burns.

_The guilt burns._

It twists in his insides, erupting in a big ball of flame as he scans the blood splattered face of _Peter._ The one of a kind, larger than life, pure teenager who always wants to do good. He wants to vomit. He lands unsteadily, every limb feeling so heavy as he stumbles to the side. He’s on his knees, not caring for how the ground cracks under the suit’s weight.

 

_“Kid, do you always land that badly?” Tony watches as the kid rolls onto the ground after tripping over his own foot. Peter perks up from the ground, lifting up his mask to his nose as he looks at Tony. Tony stops, and stares. At Peter’s jawline. All of his hickeys from the night before stayed, and Tony has difficulty swallowing his saliva._

 

Tony stares at the deep red bruises on the right side of his pale face. Tony crawls over to Peter, his mouth frozen, heart pounding blood to his ears. He’s deaf. _He can’t. He can’t hear anything. He can’t hear the rough cries that come from his throat. He can’t—He can’t hear anything but the scream that was ripped out of Peter, that beautiful voice that never fails to comfort Tony, in his head over and over and over and over and over—_

_“Has anyone told you your voice would be perfect for an audio book? Preferably where you read my future autobiography.” Tony’s smirk is softened by Peter’s bubbly laugh, the kid’s hand coming down from the book’s pages to Tony’s scruff. Tony hides his face into Peter’s stomach, turning his head on his lap when Peter softly brushes his fingers over his skin._

 

Tony’s hands come out of the armour, his fingers nearly touching the skin, his movements slow and deliberate; disbelief slithering into his bones, denial screaming in his head. He feels his eyes sting. His fingertips brush against Peter’s skin and a loud sob wracks out of his body, feeling the soft silky skin he remembers touching hundreds of times.

 

_Peter nuzzles into Tony’s hand, his eyes looking up at him with such trust that Tony’s heart bursts. His other hand comes up to caress the other cheek, and Peter turns to goo in his hands, a gentle smile on his innocent face._

 

Tony can feel the tremble of the ground when Rhodey lands behind him, a gasp coming from the man.

 

_“Peter, you know I’m an adult right? This can't work. I’m too old.” Tony softly says to the teenager, right after Rhodey leaves the room and is out of earshot. Peter turns to him, and with a frown and determined eyes, and says in a tone lined with steel that has Tony even convinced this is going to work, “Yeah, but I don’t care.”_

 

Tony’s lip quivers, voice stuck. He chokes, his chest heaving up and down fast, his hand covering the span of Peter’s spider emblem as he tries to feel the usual rise and fall of breathing. _Anything at all._

 

_Peter sneezes hard, his nose pink as he wipes his nose with tissues. Tony grimaces, watching him snuggle closer to the older man as he seeks out his body heat, his back shuddering as he tries to breathe in through his blocked nose. Tony shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “That’s disgusting. You’re lucky you’re a cute kid.”_

 

“Friday?” His voice cracks in the middle, finding it difficult to push his voice out. A moment of silence passes. And Tony just knows. He already knows this is the moment that breaks him.

Pain buries deep into his bones, resonating throughout his entire body like a sad musical piece from his shattered heart. His head hurts from how much blood rushes to his head, tears pouring out as his face scrunched up, as if all his agony has no where else to go. Twinges of misery makes themselves clear in how his body aches when he looks at Peter. With every second his eyes stay glued on the teenager’s bruised face, the more his memories are tainted and every chance at any hope he has gets severed.

Tony tries so hard not to think about how the last thing they really did together was fight. And it was _all his fault_. He didn’t even say sorry—and that gives him a blow harder than any villain has given him—knowing that Peter has it in his head all this while that Tony thinks less of him; when it can’t be more opposite.

Tony worships Peter, loves everything about him. _Loves him more than life itself._ And he never got to tell him that. He never got his chance to hold Peter, never got to hold him properly in his arms and whisper into his ear how much he loves him, never got the chance to tell him how perfect Peter is— _was_ as he slowly rolls into him. That’s why he doesn’t hold back the body shuddering scream when Friday says those words, doesn’t try to deny the truth in front of his eyes.

 

_“Boss, I’m so sorry.”_

_Because it was all his fault._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls comment and tell me what you think! It really helps a lot to tell me what I can improve on, plus it gives me more motivation to write even more fics for yall!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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